A Tour
by Ami.Bel
Summary: Unable to sleep, the mayor gets a tour of the museum from Blathers. Rated E for Everyone (mild mention of adult themes like depression and mental health).


It was just past midnight when I was hit by a particularly rough episode. The realization of my uselessness and the equally useless false motivation to do something about it. With it being the middle of the night, there was nothing I could do that would make me a better person at that exact moment. Perhaps even if I were a better person, or no matter how hard I struggled to be one, the persistent problem was not my worth but my existence. I knew there was no solution to that.

I was angry at myself. Too angry to cry. Too angry to sleep. I left my bed and dressed with as minimal effort as was acceptable; a shirt, sweatpants, a jacket, and shoes. I left my house with no particular destination in mind. I wandered the town trying to escape my thoughts. Yet I only had my thoughts as company.

All the villagers were asleep. Even town hall was closed. It was a relief though to know Isabelle was at home resting and not hard at work as usual. I felt more pity for her than I did myself. I didn't want her to waste away sunny days in that office behind a desk while my mayoral duties kept me outdoors doing the light work.

The police station was open but I didn't want to bother Copper with my presence. Unlike Isabelle, his work was his joy. He made no time for anything else. His dedication made me wistful.

After a slow lap around the empty town, my feet wandered towards main street. Everything was closed for the night as it should be. Everything except the museum. Being run by a night owl who slept during the day, it had to be kept open at night in order for him to get any work down.

Blathers was away from his desk when I walked in. He was probably hard at work in his office or in one of the exhibition preparation rooms. I didn't think anything of it and let myself be lured in to the aquarium wing.

The soft lights radiating from the terrariums were soothing. The calm blue colors of the decor were even more so. I took a seat in one of the exhibit rooms in the back. I let my eyes glaze over as I stared at the fishes swimming in lazy circles. Alone and comforted by the atmosphere, I let myself cry.

I cried softly. I mourned but for what I didn't know. I had heard that tears were never without reason. That our heart remembers to grieve even when our mind doesn't. I wondered who or what was I giving my tears to. Was I crying for some metaphorical sense of self that died? Or was I crying for myself because I feared no one else would? No one else had. I wanted no one to do it. I would share myself with no one so that they wouldn't ever have a reason to cry for me. I cried for myself because there was no one else to do it. I was crying simply because I was lonely.

It was quiet crying at first. Only a tear or two and choked breathing. Then it began to grow louder. Moans that wouldn't stay down. Wails that wouldn't be silent even as I covered my face. My beautiful impression of a person who had it all together was failing completely.

"Mayor? Is that you?"

Shocked by the sudden voice, I coughed harshly. I hurried to wipe my face as I looked at Blathers. I tried to smile but the facade was too broken to mend so quickly. I knew how I looked, unwashed hair, messy clothes, and a tearful face that stained the floor.

I knew how he looked at me. Equally shocked, mouth ajar, eyes filled with caution and immediate sympathy. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want him to know this me. What's more, I didn't want to be looked down upon. I didn't want help. I didn't want to be a burden. My body was entirely submissive in its posture. I pleaded without words for him to leave.

"Are you alright," he asked. I knew he would. He was a good person... owl.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry about the noise."

I gasped out the words as I hurried to stand. I needed to leave. I needed him to forget this as soon as possible. I didn't want to talk about what was wrong. I didn't want to be asked or advised or helped.

"Wait! Mayor!"

He called out to me and I stopped in my tracks.

"I'm fine, Blathers. Really."

I smiled as hard as I could despite my eyes still filled with tears. How much longer would he humiliate me like this?

"I see...," he answered, but his tone refused to let me go just yet. "Uhm, well if you're not busy... I'm fully awake now and... would you like a tour?"

"A tour?" I repeated the words out of pure disbelief.

"Of any wing that you'd like. I promise I'll try not to talk too long. And of course you can stop me when I do, I won't take offense."

His posturing as he spoke was far more nervous than my own. I supposed this was his way of easing the tension of the situation. For whatever reason, I didn't mind it all. It wasn't as intrusive as most people who would immediately try to play therapist.

"Sure," I answered. "Id love that."

He relaxed and seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Jolly good," he cheered. "Where shall we start?"

He held out the crook of his arm and i wrapped mine in his as he approached.

"Here is fine. Uhm.. Can you tell me about this fish?"

"I most certainly can," he said proudly. "That is known as the Napoleon fish. Although its correct name is the humphead wrasse. Obviously the first part is for its humped head"

"And what about the wrasse part? What is that from?"

"Oh, that is its family name! In scientific classification, it goes kingdom, phylum, class-"

Although he made me promise to cut him off if he went on a tangent, I refused. Most others found it annoying but I didn't mind his impromptu lectures in the least. He was passionate whenever he spoke on subjects that interested him. His eyes lit up and his hands gestured wildly. It was entertaining to watch.

"The word 'wrasse' itself comes from a bit of Cornish, meaning old hag."

I laughed sheepishly, "so in other words, its name is humped-head old hag?"

"Wot? Oh! Oh yes, I suppose it is!"

I couldn't help it and Blathers was helpless in joining my laughter.

"That's a bit cruel, isn't it," he said aloud.

"Poor fishy," I added.

It was a mean name. Although it was a correct name. Still, it wasn't exactly the fish's fault that it was ugly.

"What about this one, Blathers? This 'zebra turkeyfish'?"

"Dendrochirus zebra," he answered. "It's a member of the scorpion fish family. See along its back there? Those are venomous spikes."

We went through one exhibit after another. I would point to a specimen and Blathers would say all he could about it until we found ourselves at the next one. From the aquarium to the insect zoo, then from the archaeology wing to the art wing. I had no idea how much time passed. Neither Blathers nor I felt sleepy as we went through the whole museum.

He was probably happy to have someone to listen to him without getting bored. I was to happy to have something to listen to that wasn't my self-destructive thoughts. Whether he meant to or not, his company was a relief all the same. I hadn't forgotten my mood but I was constructively distracted from it and that was what mattered.

He hadn't tried to hug me or pat me on the back. He hadn't at all intruded and asked me why I had been crying. He hadn't been condescending with good intentions. He had seen my discomfort and respected the boundary I had set. He hadn't entirely ignored it either. In his own way, he had carefully guided a genuine smile back to my face as carefully as he had guided me through the museum.

"You see, with the difference in sculpting techniques that its obvious to tell that the she-wolf portion of the stature was sculpted first. The twins are sculpted in much greater detail and with better proportions, indicating that they were added a near two centuries later!"

"Blathers..."

"Yes?"

I said his name so softly that I was afraid he wouldn't hear me. His instant answer in the same tone said that he had been far more attentive to me than I had given him credit for.

"Thank you."

He was silent for a moment. In an even quicker moment, his nervousness returned. He nodded at me and shook it off with a smile as serene as my own.

"Anytime, Mayor."


End file.
